


Harry Potter and the Simplest Solution part II

by evenmoreimprobable



Series: Harry Potter and the Simplest Solution [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter in Azkaban, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evenmoreimprobable/pseuds/evenmoreimprobable
Summary: Harry meets Dumbledore in Limbo again. This time he chooses not to go back...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Series: Harry Potter and the Simplest Solution [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925587
Comments: 7
Kudos: 194





	1. Purgatory in Kings Cross

Harry lay face up, listening to the silence. He felt perfectly alone; that nobody was watching; that nobody else was there. He was not entirely sure that he was there himself. A long time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to him that he must exist, must be more than disembodied thought, because he was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore, he had a sense of touch, and the thing against which he lay existed too. He wondered whether, as he could feel, he would be able to see. In opening them, he discovered that he had eyes. He saw only a bright mist. The scene swirled as if the cloudy vapour had not yet formed into surroundings. The surface on which he lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be. This all seemed very familiar. Was he back in limbo at Kings Cross?

The longer he looked, the more there was to see. A white featureless ceiling stretched away to either side. All was hushed and still. He raised his head and looked to his left. Blinding white sunlight flooded the room through a tall arched window. Empty white beds lined the two sides of the room. Not Kings Cross this time then. A ghostly version of the Hospital wing instead. His head fell back to the pillow. The afterlife was weird.

As expected, Dumbledore’s voice interrupted the silence, “Hello Harry.”

Harry groaned, “You again.”

Dumbledore’s face loomed over him, “I’m afraid so.”

Harry interrupted. “Don’t bother offering me the choice. I chose to go on.”

“Go on?” Dumbledore sounded puzzled.

“Yes. _Go on_. Board the train. Continue the journey. Start the next great adventure... however you want to put it.”

“Ah. You think you’re dead then?”

Harry glared at him, “Okay, fine. We’re in limbo, I’m not dead _yet_. Merlin, you’re such a nit-picker! Let’s just get on with it shall we?” Suddenly Harry noticed something – Dumbledore was wearing his trademark garishly coloured robes.

Harry’s eyes went wide, “ _Why aren’t your robes white?_ ”

In a panic, he raised himself onto his elbows and looked past the Headmaster. Two aurors flanked the doors at the far end of the room.

“ARGH!” he screamed and sank back to his bed. There was silence for a moment.

“I’m not dead,” he said finally. “This actually _is_ the Hospital wing. You saved me!”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and screamed, “ _God damn you! God damn you all!_ ”

“You would rather be dead?” Dumbledore asked softly.

“After the life I’ve had?” Harry spat. “Of course I would! _Don’t pity the dead; pity the living._ You told me that. How right you were.”

Dumbledore frowned, “That doesn’t sound like me.”

Harry huffed, “I’m paraphrasing.” He glowered at Dumbledore, “So you saved me just in case Voldemort returns?”

Dumbledore smiled gently, “We saved you because it was the right thing to do.”

Harry scoffed, “Yeah, sure. I’m to be tried for murder then?”

Dumbledore looked troubled, “I’m afraid the trial has already happened. With hundreds of witnesses the evidence was overwhelming. It was not felt that your testimony was necessary.”

Harry laughed, which seemed to take Dumbledore by surprise, “Of course not” Harry scoffed. “Why would it? First Sirius and now me... You never learn do you? So what was my sentence... the Veil?”

“They pushed heavily for it, but I managed to get it reduced to twenty years in Azkaban.”

Harry chuckled mirthlessly again, “Great. You saved me from a swift death and consigned me to twenty years of torture instead. Perfect! Thanks for that. With friends like you I think I prefer my enemies.”

“It will give you a chance at redemption.”

“Bullshit! It will give _you_ the chance to wheel me out again if Voldemort returns. It might even make me more pliable, and in the meantime it will stop me from telling everyone about the future.”

“You judge me too harshly... but no, we can’t allow you to corrupt the present. Time travel is forbidden for a reason.”

“You really are a ruthless bastard, you know that.”

“It brings me no pleasure to see you incarcerated, Harry. But I must do what is right, not what is easy. In any case, there was nothing I could do – the entire Wizengamot was against you. Your case was open-and-shut. None of us is above the law.”

Harry sneered. “Oh that’s rich! In my fifth year they tried to arrest you for plotting against the Minister. What do you suppose happened? Did you agree to go quietly and face a trial? No, of course not! You got Fawkes to spirit you away. You could do the same for me now... but you won’t will you? Having me locked up in Azkaban fits your plans perfectly.” Dumbledore was about to object when Harry held up a hand, “Enough, Headmaster. I don’t want to hear it. Just make sure you get Sirius released. He’s innocent. Get him out. No excuses; just do it. One more thing – before I go to Azkaban I would like to see Hermione Granger. If you arrange that, I’ll go quietly.”

Over the next few days Madam Pomfrey fussed around him constantly. Apparently it had been ‘a devil of a job’ to save his life. It had taken every ounce of her skill as a healer, and quite a bit of luck. Harry chose not to comment, other than to thank her politely for her efforts. He discovered that his ankles were chained to the bed, so going to the loo was a bit of a hassle. The Aurors had to unlock them, and then accompany him with their wands trained on him the entire time. Harry promised not to do a runner, but his assurances fell on deaf ears. The Aurors on duty rotated every six hours. Harry was hoping to see Tonks, but realised she wouldn’t graduate the Auror programme for another few years. Mad-Eye never took a rotation either, which was a shame.

Harry was growing stronger by the day. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he was transported to Azkaban. His suspicions were confirmed when Dumbledore entered, accompanied by a terrified-looking Hermione Granger. Harry beamed at her. She seemed to shrink away from him, but Dumbledore placed a hand gently on her shoulder and encouraged her forward. They stopped near the end of his bed. Harry was sitting cross-legged reading an advanced arithmancy book that Dumbledore had agreed to lend him.

Harry closed his book, “Hello Hermione, Happy Birthday!”

Hermione looked up at Dumbledore, as if seeking guidance on what she should do. He smiled encouragingly down at her. She turned back to Harry. “Hello... um, Harry. Thank you,” she said hesitantly.

“Don’t be scared. I would never hurt you. In any case, they took my wand.” Harry displayed his empty hands, which seemed to relax her somewhat. “I don’t know what they’ve told you...” He glanced up at Dumbledore, who was frowning and shook his head once. “... But I’m a seer of sorts.” Dumbledore seemed to relax. “I have seen you many times in my... visions. First though, I want to apologise if you were scared at the Welcome Feast. I did what I did to avert a truly awful future, and now I must pay the price for that. But before I do, I wanted to tell you to enjoy your time at Hogwarts. You’re going to be a truly amazing witch. I’ve seen it. Don’t listen to anyone who says otherwise, okay? We would have been great friends, you and I, if circumstances were different. Securing a bright future for you and everyone else will cost me dearly, but losing your friendship is the thing I regret the most. You... would have been... the very best friend I could have hoped for, and I want to thank you for that. In my absence, find friends worthy of you, Hermione. Don’t let anyone spoil your time at Hogwarts.”

Harry looked up at the Headmaster, “That’s all I wanted to say. Is it time?” The Headmaster nodded solemnly.

Harry sighed. “Then I will go quietly, as agreed.” He smiled again at Hermione. “Goodbye, Hermione. I hope I have given you a good life.”

She seemed at a loss to know what to say, and merely squeaked out a “Bye,” before Dumbledore steered her from the room.

Under the close supervision of the Aurors, Harry dressed himself in his school robes. Six more Aurors entered to the ward to escort Harry to Azkaban. One of them handed Dumbledore an old boot. Dumbledore did something to it, then held it out for everyone to grasp. The portkey transported them all directly to the island. Angry skies and heavy rain lashed at them as they entered the forbidding stone keep of Azkaban.


	2. The Angel of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some song lyrics (from “O Children” by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds which, in case you don’t know, is the song that plays when Harry and Hermione dance together in the tent during Deathly Hallows Part I). These lyrics are in the public domain (on many many websites) and therefore do not infringe any copyright laws. (Please don't bother commenting about this. Unless you're a representative of Nick Cave I don't care what your opinion is.) There are lots of versions of the song around, with different verses, but the one I’ve based this story on is the one that can be found on a popular video-sharing website as video number YKsJRgs6Q08 ([here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YKsJRgs6Q08)).
> 
> I know that some people have a real issue with “song fics”. If you’re one of those people, consider this story to have ended with the previous chapter and read no further.
> 
> Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Dumbledore sat behind the desk in his office as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped from the floo.

“Kingsley, welcome! Refreshments?”

“No thank you headmaster. I can’t stay long.”

“Of course. So how is Mr Potter?”

“The same – Harry has spent every minute of every day for the last six months just sitting on his bed staring out the window; he seems to sleep in that position. If we enter his cell he just stares right through us. He responds to instructions like ‘stand’ but he never replies to questions. We’re pretty sure his mind is gone.”

“He eats though?”

“Yes Headmaster, his meals are always finished. The guards give him extra sometimes, and sneak him chocolate. There’s never been a child in Azkaban before... and despite what he did, it’s a very hard thing to see. He’s so small. We’ve lost seven guards so far, including one today. It was her first day on the job. She took one look at Harry and walked straight out of the castle. We received her resignation by owl.”

“Thank you, Kingsley. I’ll see you in another month.”

Kingsley nodded, “Yes Headmaster.”

Once Kingsley was gone, Dumbledore began pacing his office. Harry’s condition was a worry, but couldn’t be helped. Hopefully he’d recover once he’d served his sentence. It had happened before, though admittedly not after twenty years. In the meantime, Dumbledore couldn’t decide what to do about the Horcruxes. Should he retrieve them, as Harry had recommended? If he did, how would that change the timeline? It was a conundrum he was nowhere near solving. Fortunately, he had plenty of time to think about it. His contacts told him that Voldemort’s shade was back in Albania and going nowhere anytime soon.

\- § -

On the day he’d arrived, Harry had examined his cell as the door clanged shut behind him. It was incredibly medieval – bare stone walls, one tiny barred window, a rough-hewn wooden bed with a badly stained brown mattress, rusty iron door and a hole in the floor to serve as a toilet. Harry dragged the bed into the centre of the room, clambered onto it and sat cross-legged with his back to the door. He was now in the exact middle of the room, looking out at the tiny sliver of grey sky through the window.

All things considered, this was actually quite luxurious compared to the cupboard under the stairs. He’d been confined to the cupboard for much of the last few months, thanks to an incident at the zoo which had happened before he ‘arrived’. He had no complaints though. It gave him a chance to practice, and practice he had. Every minute of every day for months, all he’d done was sit cross-legged in his cupboard, trying to cast a wandless _patronus_. It had been a gruelling and frustrating task, but with little else to occupy his time, he ploughed on. This would be the key to his backup plan.

He was pretty sure he was going to die in the Great Hall, but if he didn’t then Azkaban seemed a likely outcome. Fudge would never believe the ‘I was killing Voldemort’ defence, for starters. There was also Harry’s use of an Unforgivable. He’d considered other spells, but they could be blocked. With a table full of professors, including Dumbledore, there was always the slim chance that someone would get a shield up in time. Only _Avada Kedavra_ was a sure kill, and killing Quirrell was essential. He couldn’t be allowed to survive, in case he set that troll free in the castle and it killed Hermione. Harry was pretty sure that Dumbledore wouldn’t want to see Harry dead, but wouldn’t want an adult-Harry-from-the-future walking around in child-Harry’s body either. All in all, Azkaban seemed a pretty certain bet, if he survived the Great Hall.

So Harry spent his time in the cupboard trying to cast a wandless _patronus_ , with very little success. Finally, after four demoralising weeks, he got a tiny silvery wisp of vapour, and then it was gone. Harry had been jubilant – now he knew it could be done! He’d known _in theory_ that it was possible – his episodes of powerful accidental magic and the strength of his wand-based _patronus_ suggested as much – but it was an enormous relief to have it proved. Harry was energised by that success and over the next several weeks he was able to achieve more. By the time he boarded the Hogwarts Express, he could create a flame-like wisp the size of a pear for about an hour... or something smaller almost indefinitely. He also found that he could give it instructions, despite it not being fully corporeal. He didn’t use it to send messages, of course, he merely told it to stand guard while he slept and wake him if danger approached. Harry had other skills he needed to learn, but the _patronus_ was the first and most important step – it would preserve his sanity while he learned everything else.

As he sat in his cell in Azkaban, Harry could already feel the oppressive weight of the Dementors sucking the joy from him. They would come soon, he suspected – ‘fresh meat’ was no doubt a powerful lure for them – so he quickly cast a _patronus_ wisp and held it in his cupped palms. With his back to the door, nobody would see the wisp, but the Dementors would feel it – just enough that they would want to be somewhere else. Harry had long-since stopped fainting in the presence of Dementors, so they’d have to be right on top of him to cause him any difficulty. Fortunately, Dementors couldn’t enter the room unless a guard unlocked the door, so Harry should be fine.

The oppressive feeling increased. _They were coming._ Wails and screams could be heard echoing down the corridor, as the Dementors passed other prisoners in the distance. Harry took a few deep breaths to calm himself and focused on the wisp. He made it grow steadily larger to match the increasingly malign presence of the approaching Dementors. There was no mistaking it when they arrived at his door – the room was plunged into an unnatural darkness and ice began to form upon the walls. Harry could see his breath in front of him, and he could _feel_ them behind him – a group of at least a dozen crowding around the door. He kept his back to them, but he sensed their malevolence settling on the room like a thick and suffocating blanket. As it pressed down upon him, he focused on the wisp and pushed back, until the encroaching misery was halted. The silvery wisp glowed blindingly in his hand, but the light barely penetrated into the darkened room. From the door, it must seem as though his small body was itself aglow.

The Dementors swept back and forth in agitation. They could sense their prey, but the glow around him caused them intense discomfort. Some left, but were replaced by others, and the battle of wills continued. Harry lost track of time. He was focused entirely on balancing whatever pressure they applied. When they withdrew slightly, he would relax slightly. When they bore down, he pushed back. He wanted them to think it was a natural response to their presence – that he was somehow immune. So the silent battle continued. When the last of them finally withdrew he almost collapsed in exhaustion, but he knew they would be back. He set a wisp to stand guard and fell into an instant sleep. It can have been no more than half an hour before the wisp emitted a piercing squeal right into his ear. He woke instantly, shook off his fatigue as best he could, and prepared for battle once more.

The contest of wills continued on and off for weeks. Harry kept track of the days by scratching lines on the wall. He was tired beyond words, but fought on. It became a habit – a routine. He would wake to the sound of his wisp squealing, battle the dementors, drive them off, eat if there was food, scratch the wall if it looked like breakfast, use the toilet if he needed to, set his wisp on guard duty, and then sleep until the next alarm. After three weeks the attacks became gradually less frequent. After five weeks they dropped away to almost nothing – just one or two Dementors would brush past his cell, but rarely stay. Their visits felt more like patrols than attacks. Harry didn’t let his guard down, but was grateful for the extra sleep. After eight weeks he felt confident that they’d given up. He would never completely let his guard down, but for now he felt safe turning his mind to other things.

Over the last two months he’d spent most of his time sitting cross-legged facing the window, fighting the Dementors. The Aurors would also patrol several times a day. They’d use their own _patronuses_ to drive the Dementors away, which would give Harry a much needed break. His wisp would alert him with a lower-pitched squeal when human guards were approaching, so he’d quickly assume his cross-legged pose and hide his wisp.

As far as the Aurors could tell, he never moved. In reality he was quite mobile. He ate all his food, and did various exercises to stop his muscles atrophying. Once the attacks had stopped, he began working on a wandless _alohomora_ and _colloportus_ to unlock and re-lock his cell door. As before, progress was extremely slow. For weeks he got nowhere, before he heard a faint click. The door remained locked, but he knew he was making progress. He alternated that with practicing wandless _imperio_ on spiders in his cell.

Once he felt strong enough, he sent a message to Sirius. He created a second wisp and told it, “Find Sirius Black. Stay with him as long as you can; when you start to weaken, return to me. Don’t be seen. Give Sirius this message:”

_Greetings from the Son of Prongs! I know you are innocent.  
I have asked Dumbledore to secure your release. If he fails, I will come for you myself.  
Stay strong and don’t lose hope, it might take a few months.  
This patronus will stay as long as it can.  
When it fades I will send another.  
Don’t let anyone see it._

The _patronus_ rose from his hand and zoomed out the window. Harry was impressed. He hadn’t thought of it, but travelling round the outside of the castle was a good way to avoid being seen. Sirius had no way to send a return message, but when the wisp returned the following day, Harry sent another.

In the end, it took Harry a month to perfect his wandless _alohomora_ and _colloportus_. As soon as he had, he left his cell and went to visit Sirius. He had a pretty good idea what the Auror and Dementor patrol schedules were. They weren’t always predictable, but there was a four hour window between two am and six am when there were no patrols at all. He instructed his wisp to show him the way to Sirius Black and followed where it led. Sirius was quite a lot higher up. The Dementors seemed to live near the top of the castle, so the higher you were the worse your exposure. Harry guessed he’d been placed near the bottom since he was a child. The occasional chocolate bars he got with dinner suggested as much. Sirius had not received such favourable treatment. Harry was astounded that Sirius had survived at all, never mind stayed sane.

The wisp eventually stopped at a cell door, so Harry used a wandless _alohomora_ to open it and slipped inside. A figure was curled up in the bed, facing away from the door and clutching something that cast the occasional faint glow against the wall – Harry’s wisp, no doubt. Harry locked the door behind him, and then slipped into the corner of the room from which he couldn’t be seen if anyone peeked through the door. “Sirius,” he whispered. The bundle of rags on the bed didn’t stir. “ _Sirius!_ ” Still nothing. Harry spoke to his wisp. “Wake him up gently would you?”

The wisp floated over to Sirius’ ear and began to emit a melodious set of musical notes. The bundle jerked almost immediately, and scrambled to hide the thing in its hands. Harry whispered gently, “Don’t be alarmed, Padfoot – it’s only me, Prongs Junior.” The pile of rags span around and scrambled away to the far corner of the bed. A filthy face framed by long straggly hair stared at him with wild eyes. Harry sat down, cross-legged on the floor. “Take your time, Padfoot. I can imagine this is all a bit of a shock. I reckon we have a few hours before the next patrol, so there’s no rush.”

The ragged figure looked like it was consciously piecing its thoughts together. “Ha...” His voice cracked and broke. He coughed and cleared his throat before trying again. “Ha... Harry?”

Harry smiled, “The very same. It’s good to see you, Sirius.” There was silence for a few seconds, then Sirius scrambled across the room and engulfed Harry in a fierce hug. “Harry! What are you doing here! You have to get out before they catch you!”

Harry hugged Sirius right back and chuckled “They already did. I have a lovely cell about twenty floors down from this one.”

Sirius roared, “ _WHAT?_ ”

Harry hissed, “ _Shhhhh!_ Keep it down, would you? Yes, I’m a prisoner here too. It’s a long story. Don’t worry about it – I have a plan so we should be out of here in a few months. Now let me go and I’ll tell you the story. You’re not going to believe this... but I’m not actually eleven years old...”

Harry told Sirius an abbreviated version of his past. He glossed over a lot of the more painful details, and didn’t say who died when, but all the main events were there. Given Sirius’ fragile condition he didn’t think it would be wise to tell him everything. He’d do that at a later date. For now, all Sirius needed to know was that Harry was an adult and had come back from the future to fix things before it all went wrong.

It took Harry six weeks to perfect a wandless _imperius_ curse on spiders, then another month to do it successfully on Sirius. As soon as he was confident it would work on a guard, he cast it on the first solo guard who walked past. He told the guard to hand over his wand, then placed the _imperius_ on him again using the wand, just to be sure. He instructed the guard to acquire two wands that wouldn’t be missed and bring them to Harry. He then gave the guard his wand back. The guard brought the wands two days later. Harry gave one to Sirius, and told him to start building up his magical strength. Meanwhile, Harry instructed his wisp _patronuses_ to locate every single prisoner that had the Dark Mark. He knew there were at least ten of Voldemort’s inner circle here (or eleven if Crouch Junior was back) but there must be way more than that. He also set about placing every single guard under the _imperius_. He probably didn’t get all of them but he got most, and he instructed them to _imperius_ the ones he’d missed, plus any new arrivals. He instructed them to wait in the entrance hall if the castle ever fell under attack, and not call for help.

On 20th March 1992, six months and one day after he was incarcerated in Azkaban, Harry decided it was time to make his bid for freedom. Sirius was strong enough to help defend them if necessary, and Harry felt the date was auspicious – it was the Spring Equinox, which symbolised change, cleansing and new beginnings.

This would be no ordinary escape, however. Harry had other things he wanted to accomplish while he was here.

At midnight exactly, Harry began his preparations. With the stolen wand, he cast one wisp _patronus_ after another, until the air above him was a blinding halo of silvery white lights. He transfigured his stripy prison uniform into bright white robes, which would further blind any Dementors or Aurors that got in his way. That wasn’t all though. In his spare time, Harry had been working on something special – a _patronus_ of a very specific shape. He hadn’t been sure it was possible, but he figured it was worth a shot. If Tonks could subconsciously change her _patronus_ , then maybe Harry could _consciously_ change his.

It hadn’t been easy, but he’d got there eventually. It’s amazing what you can achieve if you have nothing to do for twenty four hours a day. With great care and suitable reverence, Harry pointed his wand at his left hand and cast one more _patronus_ , with the modified incantation, “ _Expecto Gladio!_ ” A jet of silvery-white mist struck his left hand and began to elongate outwards. Once it was about two feet long, the fuzzy shape hardened into the unmistakable outline of a glowing white sword. A handle and guard formed in Harry’s palm and he gave the sword a swish. It felt almost weightless, but followed his hand as if he truly held a sword. A very nasty grin spread across his face.

Harry unlocked his cell door and strode purposefully out into the corridor, giving instructions to one of his _patronuses_. “Lead me to the nearest Death Eater, and then we’ll work our way up the tower towards the top. Warn me if any Aurors or Dementors approach. Once we’re done, we’ll collect Sirius and leave this God-forsaken place.” The wisp headed off down the corridor, leading Harry away. After a few moments, Harry spoke to the _patronuses_ circling above his head, “I don’t know about you, but I need a little motivational music before a battle. Join in if you know this one... it’s ‘O Children’ by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.” Harry cast _sonorus_ on himself and began to sing at the top of his voice:

_Pass me that lovely little gun_  
_My dear, my darling one_

The deafening sound boomed through the castle, carrying a long way in the otherwise silent stone passages. His words echoed off the walls, adding an ethereal depth and richness to his voice. Harry’s resolve hardened as the lyrics lifted him. This song brought it all back – the moment in the Forest of Dean when he realised how much he’d lost – what being the Boy Who Lived had cost him. Every sacrifice, every heart-break, every death... they all came flooding back to him now. He was reminded why he was doing this – what was at stake. His resolve hardened into a steely cold-hearted loathing. These Death Eaters were a putrid blight upon the world and couldn’t be allowed to live. He raised his chin and screamed out his rage, shaking the very walls:

 _The cleaners are coming, one by one  
_ _You don't even want to let them start  
_ _They are knocking now upon your door_

Harry arrived at the first Death Eater cell. Without the slightest pause, he blasted the door into dust. The boom of the explosion shook the corridor and a blanket of dust fell from the ceiling, coating Harry in a fine white powder. He stepped into the cell and cast “ _Avada Kedavra_ ” at the occupant without hesitation. They died instantly. Harry’s voice rang out once more, as if in benediction to the dead:

 _They measure the room, they know the score  
_ _They're mopping up the butcher's floor  
_ _Of your broken little hearts_

Harry stepped out into the corridor again. Prisoners were at their doors, peering through the tiny barred windows trying to see what was happening. Some were screaming for help, others screaming for death. Harry ignored them and sang on:

 _O children  
_ _Forgive us now for what we've done  
_ _It started out as a bit of fun_

As he strode off down the hallway, the screaming stopped. Prisoners stared in silence as the blinding silver-white figure swept past, singing its song of judgement. The _patronuses_ above Harry’s head began to emit a beautifully haunting lament, as if an invisible choir followed behind him, and Harry sang on:

 _O children  
_ _Lift up your voice, lift up your voice  
_ _Children  
_ _Rejoice, rejoice_

Harry stopped at another cell. The occupant scrambled away from the door as Harry blasted it into dust, but couldn’t escape the Killing Curse that took their life. Harry span without a second glance and marched on:

 _O children  
_ _We have the answer to all your fears  
_ _It's short, it's simple, it's crystal clear_

Harry was emerging from a stair well onto the next floor when he encountered the first Dementor resistance. There were two of them heading his way, but they slowed at the sight of him, surrounded in _patronus_ wisps. Harry strode towards them, undeterred. The Dementors seemed uncertain what to do. One of them backed away while the other resumed its approach. Harry slowed to a stop and spoke to his wisps, “Give me some space. Protect my back. If I get into trouble come rescue me.” The wisps moved away down the hallway, leaving Harry alone to face the Dementor. It stopped six feet away, eyeing the sword warily.

Harry smiled icily, “I know what you’re thinking. Can this sword actually hurt you? Well, there’s only one way to find out isn’t there?”

The Dementor hesitated uncertainly.

Harry snorted in disgust, “For the first time in your miserable life, you face the possibility of injury or death. Preying on the weak and helpless isn’t so much fun when they fight back is it?” He advanced, his voice dripping with hatred, “Your existence offends me. You’re an _abomination_. So step forward and face me, brave Dementor... if you dare.”

The cloaked figure floated in the air, and though its face was completely hidden beneath its hood, Harry could feel its eyes on him. The creature’s ragged cloak swayed slightly, as if fluttering in a breeze, but the air was deathly still. The thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it was trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. An intense cold swept over Harry. He felt his breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart. The creature seemed to sense Harry’s reaction and closed the distance between them. A hand appeared from the cloak. It was glistening, greyish, slimy-looking and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water. Its long fingers circled behind Harry’s head as the hood lowered towards Harry’s upturned face. From far away, Harry heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. The wand in his right hand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

_“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”_

_“Stand aside, you silly girl... stand aside, now...”_

_“Not Harry! Please no, take me! Kill me instead...”_

Harry’s blank stare flared to life. His right hand grabbed a fistful of the Dementors robes and pulled it closer. He glared in disgust at the impenetrable darkness inside the hood and growled, “My turn.” With a vicious upward thrust, he plunged the glowing silver-white sword deep into the Dementor’s billowing robes. The creature shrieked and jerked back violently, lifting Harry off the floor. Harry held on doggedly, using its thrashing to push the sword deeper. The ghastly horror flailed wildly, its blood-curdling howl echoing through the castle.

Harry was thrown clear and scrambled to his feet, watching the Dementor backing frantically away from him. Its sickly grey hands were scrabbling at its chest in a panic, as if trying to dislodge something. A glowing jagged fissure appeared where the sword had penetrated, and spread vertically like a crack in glass. The floating Dementor fell from the air and landed on the floor with a wet thud. It arched backwards and its cloaked arms flew out wide as the wound in its chest spread the length of its body in a widening rift. Bright silver-white light spread within its robes and pierced the gloomy corridor with jagged beams of illumination. A final ear-splitting screech rent the air and it toppled over backwards. In the abrupt silence that followed, the Dementor’s robes settled flat and empty onto the floor with a sigh of expelled air.

The second Dementor backed away rapidly. Harry smiled at it grimly, “ _You’re mine now._ ” The Dementor turned and fled.

Harry’s wisps resumed their beautiful and heart-rending chorus as Harry’s voice once again filled the castle:

_O children_  
_Lift up your voice, lift up your voice_  
_Children_  
_Rejoice, rejoice_

Harry grabbed his fallen wand and resumed his deadly passage through the castle. Booms echoed through the hallways and the walls trembled as he dispatched one Death Eater after another.

_O children_  
_Lift up your voice, lift up your voice_  
_Children_  
_Rejoice, rejoice_

Harry soon lost count of how many he’d executed, but he trudged on, singing out his revenge:

 _Hey little train! We’re jumping on  
_ _The train that goes to the Kingdom  
_ _We're happy, Ma, we're having fun  
_ _And the train ain't even left the station_

He guessed he was maybe fifteen floors up when the Dementors mounted their attack. He was half way along a corridor when they appeared in huge numbers at both ends, trapping him. Harry laughed manically, “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?”

He began casting corporeal _patronuses_. The Dementors halted uncertainly. Once he had eight ghostly deer prancing around him, Harry gave his instructions, “Scatter them, but don’t let them leave this floor or rush at me in numbers. Help me take them down one at a time.” As his _patronuses_ dispersed, Harry let go of the _patronus_ sword, which floated in the air where he’d released it, and called forth another one. Then he stowed his wand in his robes and grabbed a sword in each hand, twirling them experimentally.

With a roar, Harry charged at the nearest Dementor. Harry was no swordsman, but he was basically attacking unarmed enemies. What followed was nothing short of a massacre. The Dementors’ attempt at a coordinated attack crumbled when the first of their number went down screaming. They’d never contemplated the possibility of dying, and it filled them with terror. They fled in panic, but had nowhere to go – the Prongs patronuses had blocked all the exits. Harry was utterly merciless, his swords leaving a trail of dying Dementors behind him. The sound of their screeching annihilation reverberated through the castle.

Harry lost all sense of time. Dementors came at him and he cut them down, that’s all he knew. His _patronuses_ herded Dementors towards him like cattle to the slaughter, and he executed them without remorse, singing madly:

_Hey little train! Wait for me!_  
_I was held in chains but now I'm free_  
_I'm hanging in there, don't you see_  
_In this process of elimination_

_Hey little train! We’re jumping on_  
_The train that goes to the Kingdom_  
_We're happy, Ma, we're having fun_  
_It's beyond my wildest expectation_

Harry only became aware of his surroundings again when he ran out of Dementors to kill. He knew there were plenty more in the castle, but these hundred or so were all dead. He dispelled one of the swords, grabbed his wand, and resumed his extermination of Death Eaters.

_Hey little train! We’re jumping on_  
_The train that goes to the Kingdom_  
_We're happy, Ma, we're having fun_  
_And the train ain't even left the station_

Harry became a killing machine once more. Prisoners and Dementors watched him pass in fearful silence. He met no further resistance. He was unstoppable.

 _O children  
_ _Lift up your voice, lift up your voice  
_ _Children  
_ _Rejoice, rejoice_

It came as quite a shock when Harry’s _patronus_ had no more Death Eaters to lead him to. He looked around, confused for a moment, and then realised that the person lying dead at his feet was Bellatrix Lestrange.

He felt like he should say something... or feel something, at least. This was the woman who’d killed Sirius, and then laughed about it. But there was no sense of satisfaction, or triumph. Nor even relief, really. He just felt a kind of sad emptiness. She had dedicated herself to the repression, torture, and killing of others... which had ultimately led to _this_. What a pointless waste she’d made of her life. He shook his head in disgust. People were so bloody stupid.

Without a backward glance, he headed back down the stairs to collect Sirius. When he opened Sirius’ cell door, his Godfather’s eyes went wide, “Merlin’s beard, Harry. You look like an avenging angel.”

Harry grinned, “That was the look I was going for, yeah. May as well do it right, eh? You ready?”

Sirius grumbled, “You know, I was having quite a nice snooze ‘til you started singing and blowing stuff up.”

Harry shrugged, “Yeah... Sorry about that. It was just something motivational, but I got a bit carried away.”

“I heard. So who was the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The girl you sang that song for.”

“What makes you think I was singing it for a girl?”

“Just a hunch.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, we need to get going. You know what to do – transform into Padfoot so the Dementors ignore you. Only transform back if you need to use your wand.”

Sirius transformed and they descended quickly through the castle. Dementors scattered before them, until they emerged into the entrance hall. The _imperiused_ guards were gathered in a semi-circle at the door. As Harry and Padfoot walked towards them, Dementors began pouring into the Hall at their rear. Harry pointed to a guard, “You! Bring two fast brooms.” The guard ran off to carry out his orders.

Harry turned to address the Dementors, pointing his sword at them. “From this day forth you will patrol _outside_ the castle. You will prevent escapes, but you will not feast on the prisoners and you will not leave this island. If you do, I will return and wipe you from the face of the earth. You are mortal now, never forget that.”

The guard returned with two Comet Two-Sixty’s. Harry rolled his eyes. The DMLE was in desperate need of better equipment. Harry and Padfoot stepped outside and moved out of sight, where Sirius transformed. They climbed onto the brooms and shot away from the keep without a backward glance. As soon as they hit the mainland they landed and disapparated.

\- § -

Dumbledore was enjoying breakfast at the High Table when the post owls arrived. He paid them little attention, but within moments there was absolute pandemonium. Students were gathering in huge groups, clustered around those with subscriptions to the _Daily Prophet_. His own copy was sitting unopened in front of him. He unrolled it, and with increasing dismay he read:

_ANGEL OF DEATH ATTACKS AZKABAN_

_In the early hours of this morning, there was a massive attack upon Azkaban prison. Details are still patchy, but in the confusion a number of prisoners were killed and at least two are missing. So far, twenty prisoners are confirmed dead, including Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood. The two missing prisoners are convicted murderers Harry Potter and Sirius Black._

_It is not known who attacked the prison, or in what numbers. Witness accounts are baffling. They claim that an avenging angel and a Grim descended upon the castle. The angel glowed blinding white, had a bright halo around its head, and carried a flaming white sword. Prisoners have dubbed it the Angel of Death._

_The Ministry has attempted to suppress all information coming out of the castle, but we can exclusively report that the Dementors who guard the castle fought this Angel, and were massacred in huge numbers. There is no known way to kill a Dementor, and yet over a hundred of them were slaughtered. The Ministry ordered the Dementors to scour the country for the escapees, but the Dementors have refused to leave Azkaban Island._

_Miraculously, none of the Auror guards were harmed in the attack. We will of course bring you more information as it becomes available. For more information on the history of Azkaban turn to page..._

Dumbledore dropped the newspaper onto the table and stared blankly into space.

Harry Potter had escaped Azkaban.

\- § -

The following day, Dumbledore received a letter via a brown post-office owl. It read simply:

 _I told you to free Sirius. You didn’t._  
_If Voldemort returns you’re on your own.  
_ _I’m done with you._

\- § -

Five months later, Ginny Weasley and her brothers were hustled out of _Flourish and Blotts_ by their mother. Ginny was jostled by Ron and bumped roughly into a stranger. She apologised without paying any attention, and kept moving. Her father had been having a very undignified argument with Lucius Malfoy, so her mother was keen for them to leave the area quickly. Behind her, a hooded figure pocketed a black leather-bound book and disappeared into the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this story please hit the kudos button and continue on to part III. :)


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